


In the green fields of memory, the ruins of my heart stand

by ProcioneMaldestro



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Gen, Just children being children
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 17:08:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29264040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProcioneMaldestro/pseuds/ProcioneMaldestro
Summary: My first try at a DMC short fic/scenario. It’s just me holding two little boys dear to my heart.
Relationships: Dante & Vergil (Devil May Cry)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13





	In the green fields of memory, the ruins of my heart stand

**Author's Note:**

> As a beginner writer, especially in this fandom, feedback and constructive criticism are more than welcome! Feel free to speak your mind with me ^^ (you can also find me at my Tumblr @roaringbeowulf)  
> Hope you enjoy!

“Ehi, Vergil!”

The boy rolls his eyes at the sound of his twin brother's voice, quickly approaching from the hallway along with the fast 'tap-tap' of feet trotting on the floor. Just after a few moments, a mop of white hair appears from behind the door, a toothy grin and mischievous eyes to complete Dante's features.

“Let's go outside and play!”

Vergil looks up from his book just to throw a malevolent glance to his brother, whom grin only grows larger and brighter. Said brother moves closer in an unusual silent way for him, his demeanor more annoying that any word he could speak, then proceeds to sit at his right, a quick glance to the pages of his book, two small wooden swords on his lap.

“C'mon, you'll play the knight and I'll play the scoundrel.”  
A knight. Little Vergil had always liked when he played that role in all those little games of their. After all, their Father was a Knight, a Legendary one no less. The being carrying the seed of evil within him, who yet decided to exchange it for the sake of humankind, of love, of family.  
Maybe one day he could become one, too. Standing tall and proud like the son of Sparda he was, with what he loved at one side and the means to protect them at the other.

“You promised.” Dante's voice snaps him back to reality. His expectant eyes watching him, anticipation gleaming his hues, an energetic volcano ready to burst at the given permission.  
Truth be told, what he said was true. That very morning, the sight of a cobalt blue sky had greeted both the twins, putting them in a very cheerful state and giving them the feeling that it would be a too wonderful day to spend it indoors, especially after a week of heavy rain. Even if he had plenty to read, play, and to help her mother with, a couple of time the little boy had found himself wondering when he would have a chance to chase Dante in the backyard, or playing hide&seek without it ending after just five minutes because both of them already knew the best spots in the Mansion.

“Fine, then.” he finally answers, with a little sigh, made only to cover the smile that was just tugging the corners of his mouth.

The grin on Dante's lips turns into a full toothy smile, the boy dashing out the room with yells of happiness, Vergil some steps behind, energy starting to bubble up inside of him as well.

“Dante, what is this racket all about?”  
A low, inquiring, yet not upset voice, stops the two in their tracks and they turn to face Sparda, guilty expression on their little faces. As for the Legendary Knight, he looks down at his sons with a raised eyebrow, the sight of them doing things together without bickering something so unusual that leaves him a little puzzled, and yet something that he wants to carve deep into his heart. He knows moments like this are fleeting ones, that one day you see them play and fighting, and the other they walk out of that door to go and live their own lives.  
“Father, we...- starts Vergil, backed up at once by Dante, their voices overlapping and sounding almost as if it is just one – _Can we go play outside?_ ”

Warmness spreads inside Sparda's guts, a loving expression now on his features. His hands rise to to pat both their heads, callous digits lovingly tousling their identical white hair.  
“Sure, my boys – he answers – but I beg of you, come back in time for supper, or your Mother will come for _my_ head.”

Even their joyful smiles match, and that was one of the moments where, if only for their different hairstyle, you wouldn't be able to tell one from the other.  
“Thanks, Father!”

Trotting down the Hall, Dante passes one of the wooden swords to Vergil, then smacks his palm on his shoulder, chuckling “Last one that arrives at the Gate is a loser!”  
He dashes forwards, limbs exploding with energy, echoes of his laughter resonating inside all the House “Verge, you snail!”  
Without a second thought, Vergil mimics his twin moves, and the play begins  
“Use that detestable nickname once again, and I'll stab you for real!”

…

They play, they fight, they yell, and they laugh.

Wast green fields their domain, and, as someone says, with the sky as their own limit. Wheat fields with ears so high you can lose yourself in that golden maze, the entrance of the woods where people are said to get lost and never come back, the outline of Red Grave on the horizon. A small breeze refreshes them from time to time, cooling down their sweat, giving them a shiver or two if they're stay idle for just mere moments, to catch their frantic breaths.

“Are you going to surrender?”  
“What? Nonsense.”  
They resume playing, both too proud (and deep down, too much happy) for it to finish just now. Each blow, each parry, each lunge, and each dodge is give with the maximum of everything, none of the two backing down from the challenge. The maximum of energy, of passion, of joy, of juvenility.

…

“Dante, look!”

Surprise, excitement, and fascination are all mixed together in the child's voice, while he was calling for his twin; mouth wide open with that sort of joyfulness that only children are capable of, soon mirrored on the identical face that wasn't his own.  
Just over the hill it is standing, the ruin of an antique building, the roof completely lost, moss covering what remained of the thick, stony walls, the feeling of something fixed in the flow of time lingering all around.  
Was it a church, a Cathedral? Or maybe a Mason, like the one they lived in? They don't know and they don't care enough to find out, the ecstasy of games taking control once again of their limbs, their minds, their whole bodies, and launching them in the green patches in between the gray pillars. Giggles and cackles resonate all around, before getting lost in the small breeze.  
“For your crimes against the Royalty, I declare you under arrest!” small wooden sword pointed at his brother's chest, Vergil assumes a stoic pose, a seriousness not quite suited for such a young face.  
“Ah-ah-ah! - Dante laughs in a mocking tone, while climbing one pile of stones – You'll never get me, you _gobermouch!_ ”  
A well mimicked fake gasp “How you _dare?!_ ”

Again, Vergil finds himself running after his brother, both so carefree and happy that are not able to keep the facade, and they starts to laugh almost in synchrony, while trying to take down the other.

Hours continue to pass and the boys seem to have no end to their energies, tireless little beasts, who have no other concern outside the “here and now”, believing that their playtimes would be almost endless in their years to come, childhood always something infinite in a young mind.

The small breeze soon turns into a blowing wind, sky darkening with clouds heavy with rain, the first droplets already falling down to earth. Identical faces look up in disbelief, the weather so quick to change from their earthly paradise into another gloomy afternoon made of readings and home-works.

“We should go back home - says Vergil, always the first of the twins to come back to senses - Mother will start to worry.”  
A pout had already erased the joy from his brother's face, brows furrowed and disappointment in his eyes. “Just when things started to turn in my favour.”  
“What?! - Vergil scoffed – I was winning 3 to 1.”  
“That's not true!!”  
“Math seems to...”  
A distant rumbling interrupts the two, rain drops now starting to be more frequent, bigger, heavier. They let aside their quarrel for now, and turn towards home, wooden swords now innocuous in one hand, the other joined in a brotherly link.

**Author's Note:**

> The world needs more young Dante and young Vergil and the happy Sparda family *sobs*


End file.
